


A Year To Remember

by astnshing



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Female Hange Zoë, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Mikasa Ackerman & Levi Are Siblings, Mikasa Ackerman-centric, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:07:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29438745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astnshing/pseuds/astnshing
Summary: As a college freshman, Mikasa Ackerman wants nothing more than to fit into the new environment and keep her grades up. Throughout the year, in addition to her studies, she has to learn a few things: the ups and downs of adulthood, the value of friendship and what it is like to be loved.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart, Levi/Hange Zoë, Mikasa Ackerman/Eren Yeager, Sasha Blouse/Connie Springer
Comments: 22
Kudos: 86





	1. wake me up when september ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my native language, so I apologise for any possible mistakes. If you notice them, please point them out! 
> 
> Chapter’s title states the month when the actions take place and are inspired by songs. This one is Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day.

The light in the small bathroom is dull and yellow, and Mikasa hardly recognizes the woman in the dirty mirror’s reflexion. She brushes the loose strand of long, black hair behind her ear and swipes the smeared crimson lipstick with her fingertip as if it would make her look less disheveled. Her head is spinning and vision is blurry from all the drinks she had on a bet with Sasha, and she winces when the phone in her back pocket suddenly makes a loud beeping noise.

“ _how are you?_ ”

“ _im fne wbbu_ ”

It takes her a couple of seconds to realize _who_ she sent the message to - apparently, alcohol makes her a late starter. Her brother’s been a straight edge for as long as she can remember: when Mikasa had her first sip of beer at the age of sixteen at the Homecoming, he somehow smelled it and punished her by making her clean the house on her own for the whole fortnight. She wasn’t even tipsy back then, and now she’s only left to wonder how pissed Levi will be about her being hammered God knows where.

“ _don’t drink any more. be safe._ ”

Mikasa smiles, feeling relieved, and closes the door behind her. The music is deafening, and she barely catches the sound of her name.

“Mikasa, come join us!” there Sasha is, sitting on a sofa with a bunch of strangers and waving at her.

She can’t help but smile back. The way her life has changed over just a couple of weeks is simply astonishing.

__***_ _

_Dear Mikasa,_  
_Congratulations! You have been admitted to Trost State University..._

She hadn’t even finished reading when a pair of strong hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her in the air. Mikasa squeezed her eyes shut and felt mad delight invading her body. She had to read the letter over and over again and even pinch herself to make sure it was not a dream.

“Congratulations, honey!” Hange glowed with happiness and wiped away the tears she didn’t notice she had shed. In an outburst of emotions she threw herself at Levi who even had a glimpse of a smile on his usually blank face.

The idea of moving was spontaneous and seemed perfect. She was eighteen, high school had let her have a taste of freedom and now she was eager to experience it to the full. Levi wasn’t pleased when instead of her hometown Mikasa applied to university in Trost, about three hundred miles from Shiganshina. Changing one hellhole to another, he said, was pointless and idiotic, and the fact that it was on of the best colleges in the country didn’t bother him at all. Though Mikasa had a feeling that the great and powerful captain of police Levi Ackerman simply didn’t want to deal with the crazy woman he proudly called his wife himself. Mikasa had always been the one to arrange the peace talks with a pot of expensive Chinese tea after their heated arguments, and without her their house would definitely become a battlefield. She never said it out loud, though, not to be kicked out earlier and involuntary.

Preparing the necessary papers, constant shopping and packing - summer passed in a blink of an eye, and there she was, waving at the blurry silhouettes of Levi and Hange until they disappeared behind the gate of the jet bridge.

There was no coming back: she was starting the new chapter of her life.

The campus was exactly like she had imagined it: spacious, covered in greenery, with towering Gothic style buildings and a bunch of scurrying students. Her dorm was on the third floor of the newer block which meant air conditioning and soundproof walls - that was a nice bonus, because Hange had once mentioned that in her college years she’d had to buy earplugs because her dorm neighbours had been playing heavy metal the whole day. Mikasa was glad she had worked hard the whole senior year to afford it.

Frankly, Mikasa had no idea who her roommate was. None of the future freshmen’s advertisments on the college website had caught her eye and she hadn’t had friends who had also applied to Trost University to room with, so when the administration had emailed her on this topic, she had just asked them to pick anybody. A piece of her mind hoped they had decided to give her a single, but an unlocked door and piles of boxes scattered around the room told her that her roommate was already there. In the middle of the room, right on the floor, a girl was sitting with her legs crossed. A pretty one, slender, with dark hair tied in a high ponytail, she was wearing a green checkered sweater and watching something on her laptop.

Mikasa cleared her throat, and the girl turned around and looked at her, her brown eyes wide in surprise.

“You must be my roommate!” she jumped off the floor and pulled startled Mikasa in a bear hug. She had never been a tactile person, but she patted the girl’s shoulder as a greeting. “I’m Sasha.”

“Mikasa.”

Sasha sat her down on a small navy blue sofa - the only space free of boxes - and flopped next to her. She had a strong, high-pitched voice, and an interesting accent Mikasa had never heard before. Her roommate was obviously an outgoing and open person: over the ten minutes into the talk, which was more like a monologue because Mikasa only hummed as a response, she found out that Sasha was from the Dauper village which was not that far from Trost, that she had an adoptive younger sister, that her favourite food was meat and that she had come to the Trost University to study languages.

“English and Italian,” she stated proudly, and Mikasa hummed for the fifteenth time. “Enough about me. What’s your major?”

“Architecture.”

Sasha kept silent, looking at her in expectation of the continuation, but Mikasa pulled out the phone as she noticed a new message from her brother.

“ _settled?_ ” - short and simple, totally in Levi’s style. He had always managed to take interest in her well-being without seeming interested.

“Nice talk.” Mikasa overheard Sasha sigh and come back to watching a movie.

She gently caressed Levi’s profile picture: they had been young and happy in it and making faces at the camera. The wave of melancholy suddenly hit her, and she almost physically could feel the hole in the pit of her stomach - nothing would be the same anymore. Hange wouldn’t make breakfast while dancing to awful pop songs and burn toasts time and time again, Levi wouldn’t follow them around like a warden, controlling the process of cleaning, and wouldn’t make them rewash the whole kitchen because of one fallen crumb, they wouldn’t turn on the absolutely absurd comedy on a Friday night and wouldn’t binge on cheese popcorn and homemade tacos.

That was the point of growing up, she thought. Leaving the nest was something everyone had to go through. 

Maybe the part of Levi had come here with her: when Mikasa noticed the dirty footprints on the floor, she grimaced and reached into her suitcase for a doormat. She could use a thorough cleaning.

“Wanna grab some ice cream later?” Mikasa asked, and Sasha’s face lit up and she nodded vigorously.

She could use some friends, too.

Boring days filled with decorating the dorm and strolling around the campus soon got replaced with school ones.

That term Mikasa was going to take five classes, one of which, to her great disappointment, was Physics. On top of that, it was on Monday, at nine in the morning.  
She took the left turn, saying goodbye to Sasha and nodding to her suggestion to meet at lunchtime, and stopped at what she assumed was the right lecture hall. It was still a couple of minutes before the class, and she, smiling in anticipation, marched into the room filled with gloomy, sleepy students. Mikasa took a vacant seat in the second row, right next to a shorter guy with perfectly coiffed fair hair. Noticing the movement on his left, he got off the phone and eyed her with curiousity.

“Hi,” he stuttered, and Mikasa had the opportunity to take a closer look at him. Milky skin, fair, barely visible eyebrows, an upturned nose, thin lips now with a shy smile on them, but the most remarkable were his huge eyes of a lovely cerulean shade. “I’m Armin.”

Mikasa had always had a hard time making friends. She didn’t like making small talks, answerng banal questions, so it was easier to avoid new people. But Armin seemed too sweet to ignore, so they spent the rest of the time before the class talking about everything and nothing at the same time: they remembered funny stories from the past and wondered what was waiting for them in the future. She really liked Armin, if you could say so after only a five minute talk. He was one of those rare people who would help an old lady cross the road, take a cat off the tree and let the spiders out instead of killing them - a saint. He planned to work as a marine biologist - blushing, he told her he had never seen the ocean, and this profession would help him make this dream come true - and lived in the same block as her, just the floor above. He had come to Trost with his best friend, whom he knew his whole life, from Shiganshina - this fact made Mikasa grin widely.

“Maybe we could work on this paper together?” Armin suggested when they were leaving the lecture hall and Mikasa’s head was pounding from all the formulas and complex definitions, which they, besides writing two papers, had to memorise by next Monday. Armin told her about the coffee shop on campus, a small cosy place that, in addition to hot drinks, served delicious pastry and sweets.

“I’d love to.”

At last, Armin handed her a piece of paper with his number written on it, hugged her goodbye and headed in the opposite direction.

Classes and homework took most of the days, and Mikasa felt like a squeezed lemon. Hange had warned her about the crazy workload, but she had always brushed her off: in the movies all college students did was partying and getting involved in love affairs. Now she was only involved in differences between Renoir and Monet’s techniques. And it was just the first month of studying!

Exhaused, Mikasa collapsed on the bed, feeling the lingering pain in her lower back, and turned the night-light off. It was eight in the evening, and she already could hardly keep her eyes open. The warmth spread through her body, Mikasa felt she was drifting off to sleep, and...

“You won’t believe it!” Sasha jumped on the bed, painfully elbowing her hip, with the huge smile on her face. Mikasa groaned, silently imagining how many years she would get for murder. “Some frat is throwing a party this Sunday. Mikasa, we must go there!”

She had heard a lot about such an event. One of Hange’s favorite stories from her college years was how she had had to swallow an alive goldfish as an initiation - she had cried for two days and hadn’t eaten fish for an entire year after that. Levi had always visibly darkened and changed the subject when they had brought the phrase “college party” up.

Sasha snorted at her concern. “You watch too many shitty comedies. It’ll be fun and completely harmless, believe me, I’ve been to a frat party before. Besides, you don’t have to do anything, just tell them to fuck off and they’ll leave you be. C’mon, Mikasa, let’s have fun!”

Mikasa didn’t want Sasha to go there on her own. Moreover, a party would be a great opportunity to relax after the hard school days.

“We should dress stunningly!”

Mikasa nodded in agreement just so Sasha would leave her alone and let her sleep.

What Sasha had meant by “stunningly” was dressing up like she had never dressed up before: even on Levi and Hange’s wedding Mikasa had looked less flashy.

“I won’t wear it.” With her hands on her hips, Mikasa was staring at the blouse in Sasha’s arms, the one that Hange had given her one day with a teasing smirk. The blouse was black, see through with a silk tank top under it, and in combination with the short skirt it was _totally_ out of her comfort zone.

Sasha had a pleading look on her face, and Mikasa, mentally cursing her roommate and sister-in-law as well, snatched the blouse and locked in the bathroom.

But Sasha didn’t stop at that. Mikasa left the dorm with a bronze smoky eye and in heels.

“They grow up so fast!” having taken a couple of photos, Sasha wiped away the fake tears and dragged Mikasa to the exit.

__***_ _

Mikasa pushes her way through the buzzed crowd, keeping her eyes on Sasha and a group of people surrounding her. A tall tanned brunette and a petite blonde are cuddling on the armchair, and next to them a stocky blond with a drunk expression on his face and a lanky dark-haired boy are sprawled on the sofa. Coming closer, Mikasa can see Armin: he’s taking small sips out of a plastic cup and listening to something a guy with a shaved head is saying with such intensity. Two more guys are sitting on a rug, leaning on the glass coffee table.

“Meet Mikasa Ackerman!” Sasha shouts, and Mikasa just waves at them shyly, not being used to such attention. “And these are...”

To be honest, she doesn’t remember their names. One of the guys - his name is Jin or something - is constantly taking strange glances at her, and it makes Mikasa even more uncomfortable. She keeps silent for the most part, smiles and gives short answers when someone addresses her, and, despite Levi’s order, drains more cups of a self-made cocktail - a mix of vodka and orange juice.

“Uno!” Mikasa puts down the last card and smiles smugly at her opponents’ sour faces.

Armin takes a look at the colourful fan of cards in his hands.

“How? I swear you’ve just got a Draw Four card...”

Mikasa just shrugs: a professional never reveals their secrets.

The buzzed crowd has moved outside. Out of the corner of her eye she notices an unpleasant looking group of boys approaching their table where Armin and Jin are having a heated argument over what a loser should do as a punishment.

“Oi, fuckers, it’s time for fun!”

Everyone immediately drops all the cards and gets up, their faces lit up in excitement. Mikasa thinks it won’t end well.

“Prove that you’re not a pussy. Run around the house in your underwear, or even naked, we don’t give a fuck.”

Mikasa chokes on her drink. It _definitely_ won’t end well. But what surprises her the most happens next: without any thoughts, Sasha strips off her blue sundress and rushes off in her matching bra and panties. 

“I’m not a pussy!” Bertholdt covers the petite blonde’s eyes, watching Reiner’s pale ass rushing after Sasha, his underwear tossed in a bush. 

With a battle cry Connie joins them, and with Reiner, whining songs off-key, they continue the race hand in hand.

“Hey, hot stuff, why don’t you join them?” one of the unpleasant looking group, a boy with dark curly hair and an arrogant smile, turns to Mikasa, ogling her bare legs. She just narrows her eyes and scowls menacingly - Hange calls it _the Ackerglare_ \- and the boy rolles his eyes and turns away, deciding to leave her alone.

“Mikasa,” someone’s hand touches her shoulder, and she recognises Armin’s voice. He looks utterly disgusted with what is going on around him. “I’m leaving, are you with me?”

Mikasa tries to catch a glimpse of Sasha’s figure. Leaving her surrounded by strangers in her state would be heartless, but she doesn’t want to stay here anymore: the party has taken an unpleasant turn.

“No, I can’t, I-“

“Don’t worry,” suddenly the third voice gets into the conversation. It’s Jin, he’s watching her with the same strange look, his face flushed light pink. “Just go, I’ll make sure Sasha gets to her dorm safe and sound.”

Mikasa hesitates for a moment. Jin seems like a reliable guy, Sasha will be just fine. _Right_?

“Okay.” She hopes Sasha will understand her.

But she doesn’t even remember. They meet in the dining hall at breakfast, where drowsy Sasha begins interrogating her about what happened yesterday and how she ended up crashing for the night in Connie’s dorm.

”I honestly don’t remember anything after our Uno game,” she admits.

Mikasa giggles.

“You won’t believe it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi :)
> 
> So, this fanfiction is my way to cope with all the shit that is happening right now in the manga, especially with Eren and Mikasa (i’ve been shipping them for 7 years and now my heart is broken).
> 
> Also, don’t take part in hazing - this tradition is horrendous - and don’t abandon your drunk friends parties. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :)


	2. we fell in love in october

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my native language, so I apologise for any possible mistakes. If you notice them, please point them out!
> 
> Chapter’s title states the month when the actions take place and are inspired by songs. This one is we fell in love in october by girl in red.

“Joule-Lenz law?” 

Mikasa stares at Armin as if he’s just grown a second head. He stays silent for a moment and shooks his head, clearly disgruntled.

“Joule–Lenz law states that the amount of heat dissipated from a current carrying conductor is proportional to the resistance of the conductor, the square of the current and the time needed for the current to pass through the conductor.” He makes it sound like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Mikasa growls, dropping her head on her folded arms. When Armin told her he had prepared flashcards for their study session, she thought it would be fun, but now, after they’ve been at it for an hour and she’s only got the half of them right, she feels hopeless. 

Undoubtedly, it is necessary for architects to know Physics, or else the buildings would crumble without even being completed. But when enthusiastic fifteen-year-old Mikasa made up her mind about her future profession, she couldn’t even imagine she would spend sleepless night cramming the incomprehensible science, killing her own nerve cells, as well as Armin’s who graciously volunteered to help her. 

“Angular velocity formula?” Armin asks, his voice is full of hope. Mikasa tries hard to make her exhausted after three classes and an hour of studying Physics brain in attempt to remember the simple formula she totally wrote down. 

“Oh! Angular velocity is a vector quantity and is equal to the angular displacement divided by the change in time,” she states proudly, and Armin gives her a high five.  _Finally_ , she’s made some progress. And it’s not like six out of ten is a bad result.

“Alright, the meeting is in twenty minutes, we need to hurry.” He gets up and carefully puts all the books into a brown leather bag. Armin never ceases to amaze her: all his movements, even the simplest ones, are smooth and he himself seems just perfect. Always in a good mood, in a neatly ironed shirt and with great marks. Sasha once assumed he was an artificial intelligence disguised as a human as he’s  _suspiciously flawlees_. “I’m starving.” As if to confirm his words, his stomach growls loudly. 

“Sasha’s at McDonald’s now, text her to grab you something.”

They set off to a huge assembly hall where at seven o’clock the meeting with the Head of Trost University Sports Department will take place. Mikasa finds it odd and even ridiculous: it’s been a little over a month since the start of the term, and the sport orientation is scheduled only now.  They almost immediately regret taking the places at the first row: apparently, the Head of the Sport Department, Kieth Shadis, is an expressional man, and his loud talking comes with occasional spitting in their direction. Women’s and men’s volleyball, basketball and track - the variety of sports at Trost University isn’t rich, but at least they have something to choose from. Nevertheless, sport has always been a huge part of her life. It started with figure skating at the age of four, continued with taking up kickboxing as a teenager, and since fifteen she started working out at the gym almost on daily basis. Now, when she’s accustomed to the crazy school lifestyle and even gets a healthy eight-hour sleep, she’s eager to sign up. Maybe she should try volleyball, her high school teacher always told her she had a good shot.

“You! What the hell are you doing?” Mikasa flinches when Shadis suddenly yelps, jumping out of his chair. He marches into the crowd, his face scarlet with fury, and stops right in front of Sasha. Sasha who is chewing french fries. “You! I’m talking to you! Who the hell are you?”

Sasha throws another fry into her mouth and stands up with a straight face. “I am Sasha Blouse from the Faculty of Linguistics, sir!”

“Sasha Blouse,” It can be heard how hard he’s grinding his teeth. “What are you holding in your right hand?”

“It’s french fries, sir!” She eyes the red packaging with the well-known yellow initial with wonder: has he never seen it before?

“Why are you eating french fries right now?” His voice doesn’t sound angry anymore, rather, flabbergasted. On her right, Armin makes a strange sound and puts his hand over his mouth, making every effort not to burst out laughing, and Mikasa elbows his side. 

“It’s best when eaten warm, so I thought that eating it right now was the best course of action, sir.”

“That reasoning is beyond me. Why are you eating french fries?”

“Are you asking why people eat french fries in general, sir?”

Mikasa squeezes her eyes shut, wishing her roommate didn’t open her mouth at all. She hears Armin gasp with muted laughter as he buries his red face in his hands. 

“Take half of it if you’d like, sir.” Armin genuinely tears up when Sasha, after thinking to herself for a moment, hands Shadis a pack and smiles weakly. 

She gets kicked out of the hall faster than Usain Bolt runs hundred meters, leaving Shadis in a bad aftertaste and a strong smell of still warm McDonald’s french fries behind.

“It was _so_ worth coming.” Even on his way to the dormitory, Armin can’t calm down, still wiping away the tears.

Hearing the whispering and loud mockery about the mysterious Potato Girl from all directions, Mikasa is sure her roommate has a knack for embarrassing herself. At least, now her phenomenal race at the freshmen party is forgotten.

***

A whistle blows, and Mikasa catches her breath, landing on her feet. She pulls her messy hair into a low ponytail and puts a hand to her forehead to wipe away the drops of sweat, coming closer to a serious looking man holding a notepad. His name is Gunther, in his college years he used to be captain of the volleyball team, and now he is an assistant coach and a manager of the Trost University’s «Legion».

“Excellent game,” Even if his stoic face doesn’t show it, there is a smile behind his voice. “But, unfortunately, we can’t take all of you.” There are five candidates for two vacant spots in the team. He studies the breathless and tired girls standing in front of him. “Leonhart and Ackerman, welcome to the team. The other girls, you are talented and strong, thank you!”

Mikasa turns around, staring at another called girl. She’s pretty short and skinny, with blonde hair tied at the back, big icy blue eyes, a Roman nose and an emotionless expression on her pale face - it reminds her of Levi. 

“Congratulations,” Mikasa whispers to her  when the other upset girls leave the gym and Gunther asks them to follow him into the coach’s office, and Leonhart nods without even looking at her.

In a small room, surrounded with piles of papers, sits a man of a large stature, with broad shoulders, blond hair neatly parted on the left side and thick and bushy brows furrowed in concentration. He’s reading something, and quiet classical music is playing from the old tape recorder situated on his desk.

“Erwin, our new athletes.” He raises his head when Gunther calls out to hims and smiles politely at the girls. “Annie Leonhart and Mikasa Ackerman.”

At the sound of the latter name, he turns in Mikasa’s direction, glaring at her with a mix of light shock and curiosity, the intensity of his gaze makes her flush.

“I’m glad you decided to join us.” The man writes their names into a thick notebook. He explains the state of things: the training schedule, their place in the ranking of national and international teams; and briefly mentions each of their teammate - his raised eyebrow implies he hopes for their successful collaboration. “Mikasa, please stay for a minute.”

She frowns, confused. She  really hopes Erwin isn’t some kind of a pervert who’s going to hit on her. This happened with her first kickboxing coach - she broke his nose and almost got sued for that.

“Ackerman is a common name, right?” Erwin asks after the door closes behind Gunther and Annie. It’s a strange question, and Mikasa just shrugs. She only knows four people with such last name: herself, Levi, Hange - not by birth but by marriage - and her uncle Kenny who she’s met only once because he’s been living behind bars for the last decade. “What I mean is... Do you happen to be Levi Ackerman’s relative?”

Mikasa opens her mouth in amazement. The coach of Trost University’s volleyball team knows her brother, the captain of police from a small town Shiganshina?

“I’m his younger sister, sir.”

Erwin smiles. He gets up from his table, approaches the tall cupboard and starts digging through stacks of documents and books - Mikasa is sincerely interested why there are so many of them around the room. The cupboard door shuts, and Mikasa sees an old polaroid photo in his hands. She quickly recognizes Levi: he stands out among the fit, tall young men in white and brown uniform, the one he used to wear while studying at the police academy. To her surprise, Erwin is there too, right behind her brother.

“We went to the academy together,” Erwin explains, pointing at the year written in the corner of the photo - the year of graduation. “We also were partners for a couple of years, then I moved to Trost, and we haven’t spoken since.”

“If I may ask, sir, what made you change careers?”

It may have sound a little harsh, and Mikasa immediately feels ashamed, but Erwin scoffs.

“My mental health.”

She has a clear understanding of what he means. After every murder, rape and pedophilia case, Levi is as quiet as a mouse, and his dull face becomes even darker and more detached. Seeing everything with your own eyes, hearing the weeping of friends and family is extremely mentally exhausting, and she can’t blame Erwin for that. 

“I can give you his number,” she offers all of sudden, making his smile widen. “I’m sure Levi will we happy to hear from you.”

She leaves the gym in high spirit: not only she’s on the volleyball team, but she helped two old friends renew contact.

***

Mikasa can’t stop grinning on her way home. Professor gave her landscape painting a flattering comment (“Miss Ackerman, you are another Bruegel!”), Armin invited her and Sasha to hang out at his, and two girls from her floor, Ymir and Historia, whom she met at the freshmen party last month, asked her on brunch. Life is working out perfectly for her, and Mikasa is sure nothing can kill the mood.

Until she pushes the door open and almost squels in dread.

Half-naked, covered in kiss and bite marks and with a red face, Connie falls of the couch, immediately covering his bare hips with the maroon blanket - Mikasa makes a mental note to burn it. Sasha squeaks and pulls her knees up to her chest in an unsuccessful attempt to cover up.

“What the fuck?!” she shouts, shocked and disgusted at the same time. “Couldn’t you make it to the bedroom?”

She doesn’t wait for the response and rushes out of the room with the only thought  _what the hell_ in her mind. She had no idea Sasha was that close with Connie, and she wishes she would have found out it the other way. 

She hopes Armin will be okay with her coming in earlier since there is no way she’s returning to her dorm right now, so she heads for the third floor of the students hall. His room is 301, the first one on the left side, and is poorly decorated for Halloween. 

She knocks three times and takes a step back, waiting for Armin to greet her. Her answer is complete silence.

“Hey.” She knocks on the door again, this time louder and with a hint of annoyance. She surely doesn’t need Armin ditching her now. “It’s me, Mik-“

The door abruptly opens, hitting the wall with a loud thud, and she takes another step back, startled. Instead of the lovely cerulean eyes, she’s met with the furious ones of a dark teal color. It’s definitely not Armin: the unfamiliar boy stands at solid six feet, just a couple of inches taller than her, and is strongly-built, his muscles flex from the strong grip he has on a doorknob. 

“Does-“ Mikasa starts, but the narrowing of his piercing eyes makes her fall silent.

“For the third  _fucking_ time, I won’t take part in you shitty survey,” the guy hisses through his gritted teeth. Mikasa raises her eyebrows, taken aback by his sudden hostility. “So forget this room even exists and tell your little friends to get the hell out of here before I call the police!”

Throwing the last grim glance at her, he tries to close the door, but Mikasa crosses a foot in its trajectory to stop it. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Just fuck off already!” 

Mikasa crosses her arms across her chest, looking up at him, perplexed. “I don’t know what your problem is and I don’t really care, but I came here to see my friend and you’re being extremely rude to me.”

“Friend?” he processes the information for a moment, the crease between his eyebrows disappears. He has a pretty face, with strong features such as his cheekbones and jaw, a high straight nose and thin lips. He suddenly blushes, his eyes widen in horror. “Oh my God, are you Mikasa?” she nods. “I’m so sorry, Armin did mention you coming around, but I totally forgot, and these girls with their stupid survey, I just... I’m really sorry.”

He reminds her of a guilty child being scolded by his mother. His cheeks and ears pink in embarrassment and his hand ruffling his dark hair tied in a messy bun, he refuses to meet her eyes. 

“So, can I come in?” Mikasa asks, and the guy moves to the left, making her some room. 

The dorm has the same floor plan as theirs, but the abundance of scattered clothes and books make it seem much smaller. The guy follows her into the tiny living room and sits awkwardly at the edge of the sofa. In the peachy afternoon light filtering in through the windows, he seems different, his features softer, making him look almost boyish. He’s wearing a plain green T-shirt and loose gray sweatpants, and Mikasa can see a small tattoo peeking under the sleeve of his top. 

Armin always spoke highly of his roommate and concurrently best friend. They’ve been together on the rollercoaster of life since forever, helping and supporting each other in their hour of need. He even showed her some photos, and there is no way the boy in front of her isn’t Eren Yeager, Armin’s _brother from another mother_ , like he once said.

“You’re Eren, right?” Though it’s hard to match the sweet and reliable guy Armin talks about with this brute. “I’m Mikasa. It’s nice to finally be formally introduced to you.”

“Nice to meet you, too, and I want to apologise again for what I said, I confused you with someone.” He gives her a lopsided smile, and she playfully rolls her eyes, taking a seat next to him on a small sofa. “We thought you’d come a bit later, so Armin’s out grocery shopping, but he must be back soon.”

Armin appears in a couple of minutes, carrying a big cloth bag filled with mostly snacks and cans of soda, one of which Eren instantly fetches. They sit at the improvised table - which is actually just a countertop lying on two huge piles of books, and Mikasa doesn’t think she wants to know how they even thought of that - with a bag of chips, and Armin giggles at Eren’s flustered face when she retells the story of their meeting. 

“By the way, where is Sasha? I thought you’d bring her with you.”

Mikasa groans, reminded of the recent incident.

“Oh my God, I was coming back from my class, right? So I opened the door and freaking saw...”

***

“ _see you at Jean’s?_ ”

The thing is, Mikasa doesn’t want to go to the Halloween party. Her costume is stupid, there is an important test next week and she bruised her ankle at yesterday’s volleyball practice. But when excited Sasha jumped on her bed - yes,  _again_ \- and begged her to come, she agreed. 

“ _u’ll be there?_ ”

“ _yeah :) Eren too_ ”

The more familiar faces, the merrier. Mikasa spreads the hair gel on her raven hair and slicks it back; her makeup is done in emerald colour, with some silver glitter shining under her eyes and a serpent drawn on her right cheekbone - all Sasha’s work. 

“Do I look smart enough?” The roommate herself gets out of the bathroom, her black and red robe looking wonderful comparing to Mikasa’s green one - no wonder, she bought it for twenty dollars in a local costume shop and it wrinkles like a bitch.

“Your hair is not crazy enough, come here,” Sasha giggles when Mikasa runs her hands through her hair, getting the light curls messier. “I can’t believe I’m touching a filthy mudblood,” she adds in her best impression of a British accent.

“No, not the m-word!” Sasha throws her an accusatory glance. “Dude, you should wash your mouth out with soap.”

The beeping of her phone phone draws Sasha’s attention. “Connie’s already waiting for us, let’s go!”

“Shall we, Miss Granger?” As a true gentleman brought up in a wealthy pureblooded family, Mikasa holds the door for her friend.

“We shall, Mr Malfoy.”

Jean’s house is a fifteen minutes drive from the campus, and Sasha is riding shotgun, so Mikasa is left on the back seat, forced to witness their unstoppable giggling (no way anything they say is that funny) and the looks they give each other when the other one isn’t looking. They’re so cute she almost throws up. So when they finally get to the two-storey cottage, she’s over the moon. 

“That’s the best costume ever!” Jean opens the door with a wide smirk and pulls Connie into a tight hug. It’s not a complete lie, Connie does look awesome in the yellow and orange robes, and the blue arrows drawn on his arms and the nicely shaven head make him look like the real Aang. “Sasha, Mikasa, you look cool as hell! Come in, pizza and booze are in the kitchen.” 

The music is favourable - some remixes of the popular hip-hop songs that always play on the radio, - and it seems like the whole Trost University is fitted into the tight space, making it hard to even turn around. Sasha and Connie disappear in the crowd right away - most certainly, to make out - and she’s lost Jean half way to the big light kitchen where the hotbed of fun is. Some shirtless guys are playing beer pong on the kitchen island, a couple of girls dressed into medieval gowns are sucking on each other like it is the last day of their lifes, and a guy with the undercut style hair is making drinks. So, Mikasa decides to approach the latter. 

“What’s up, I’m Porco and I’ll be your bartender for tonight.” He salutes her and points to the line of bottles behind his back. “Whatcha want?”

Mikasa doubts he’s certified, but she doesn’t mind. “Make your favourite one.”

Porco seems pleased with her request and pulls out a bottle of vodka and martini.  _Is he really going to mix it?_ she wonders,  _I’m glad tomorrow is Sunday._

Leaving him to do his work, Mikasa turns on a bar stool and looks around, trying to catch a sight of any familiar face. She sees Annie and another girl from the volleyball team, Hitch, standing in the corner with a bunch of boys, two of which, Reiner and Bertholdt, she knows from the party last month. Armin’s nowhere to be seen, though, and as she unblocks her phone to text him, she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“So good to see you there!” Mikasa turns her head to see a pair of dark teal eyes looking at her in amusement. “I knew you are a Slytherin.”

Eren Yeager a Harry Potter nerd? Well, that’s unexpected.

“And you are a Gryffindor, I presume?” she asks, pretended to look disgusted, and he scoffs.

“As if. We, serpents, should stick together. This dude right here,” he nods to Porco who just gives him a finger. “is a noble Slytherin himself  and  makes fantastic drinks.”

“Fuck off, dude, it’s like you’re advertising me.” Porco places a glass in front of her. “Enjoy, miss,  _Galliard Vodka Martini_.”

“You suck at names, I don’t envy your future child.”

“Go drown yourself, Yeager!” 

The drink is strong yet nice, and Porco flashes her a toothy smile when she gives him a thumbs up as an approval. Eren bends over the table which serves as a bar and grabs a tall bottle, making the bartender shout in protest.

“Give it back, asshole!”

“Nope.” He gently wraps a hand around Mikasa’s elbow, making her stand up. “Armin’s outside, let’s join him.”

She just obeys and lets him lead her through the swaying crowd. Armin is sitting by the pool, dressed into a black smoking with the shades covering his eyes, despite it being the evening - she now realizes Eren is wearing the same things. She sucks at pop culture, so she has no idea who they’re portraying. 

“Agent K, I brought us an ally,” Eren exclaims, flopping next to him. 

“Agent J, another Slytherin on the team? As ahonourable Ravenclaw, I’m against the idea. But it’s Mikasa, so it’s okay.” 

The weather is warm and only the occasional blows of breezy wind remind that it’s almost November. They pass the bottle around, and after some time Mikasa starts feeling sleepy from the calm atmosphere and heat spreading through her body. She leans on Eren who seems bewildered by her state but says nothing, shifting a little to make her more comfortable.

She misses the moment when Sasha and Connie, satisfied and blushing from their rendezvous, join the company. 

“Hey, bitches, wanna play good ol’ Never Have I Ever?” Sasha suggests, pulling another alcohol bottle out from somewhere.

“Yes.”

“Totally.”

“Fuck yeah!”

“I’ll start!” Eren shouts with a devious smile on his lips. “Never Have I Ever had a bowl cut.”

Armin gasps. “Dude, I thought we agreed that never happened!”

Mikasa can’t help but laugh. Maybe it’s the _Galliard Vodka Martini_ in her, but at this moment she feels utterly happy, surrounded by these people. 

“Never Have I Ever been a goth. Bottoms up, Mikasa!”

“...I wish I never told you.”

Even though they’re assholes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I wish my college years were as fun as Sasha’s, the girl’s surely having the best time of her life.) 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and see you next chapter!
> 
> Also, feedback is appreciated :)


	3. can we go back to november?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my native language, so I apologise for any possible mistakes. If you notice them, please point them out!
> 
> Chapter’s title states the month when the actions take place and are inspired by songs. This one is November by Tyler, the Creator.

November is such an interesting month. In contrast with Shiganshina where even at summer the temperature doesn’t get higher than eighty five degrees, the climate in Trost is much milder, so Mikasa feels a bit hot in her long black coat. Sitting on a bench near the campus entrance, she admires the outbursts of colour in between the large trees’ branches, so vivid and unlike her spirit. 

She dreamt of her home today. A small cabin on the outskirt of the town, right next to the thick forest, with a large garden where her mom spent hours growing various flowers and vegetables. A couple of feet away from the cabin flowed a narrow river where Levi and her spent almost all warm days, swimming and splashing. At one of such warm days they were on their way home from the theatre, right at the time when Levi was supposed to be back from work. However, instead of hugs and merry chattering, he was met with his nine-year-old sister weeping at the car crash scene. 

They sold the house pretty quickly and moved to the downtown, to a nice two-storey house alongside the blossoming park. Soon Levi introduced her to Hange, a loud and eccentric medical examiner from his work, and they instantly hit if off. Mikasa saw a therapist, went to a private school - Levi worked his ass off from morning to night to ensure a better life for his sister. Little by little she started feeling back on track, but lifeless eyes of her parents still haunted her. 

Mikasa sobbed fearfully and opened her eyes, feeling a stranger’s hand on her body. Drowsy and shaggy, Sasha was sitting on her bed with a concerned expression on her face.

“You’re okay, it’s just a bad dream,” she said gently, and Mikasa felt the burning tears roll down her cheeks. Sasha moved even closer and put her arms around her neck, whispering the soothing words. 

It was strange to experience it: she hadn’t dreamt of her parents for years; Mikasa felt like a scared girl who had woken up every night and cried herself to sleep again. 

“Did something happen?” Armin asks, and she realizes she was indulged in her thoughts. 

“What makes you think that?”

“You’ve been scowling the whole morning,” he explains and then grins. “And you’re not complaining about the test.”

The Physics test turned out to be surprisingly easy, and Mikasa only forgot one formula. 

She hits his shoulder and chuckles. “ It’s nothing, I just didn’t sleep very well last night.”

It’s only partly true, and she hopes Armin isn’t perceptive enough to tell that. Mikasa doesn’t want to depress him with her own melancholia, as today marks the day Armin finally turned eighteen. 

“Want to go to my place, watch something and laugh at Eren’s attempt at learning the ancient Greek laws?”

“...As if you had to ask.”

She quickly finds Eren’s name in her contact list. Mikasa doesn’t know if they’re considered to be friends: they have lunch sometimes - with Armin, of course, and sometimes Sasha, - he somehow found out her phone number and now not a day goes without him sending her a stupid meme or an adorable puppy picture, and the last time she came by he even hugged her. 

_“we’re coming_ ”

“ _perfect!!_ ” 

After they left Jean’s house on Halloween, Eren approached her with the idea of throwing Armin a surprise party - though he chose the word  _get-together_. It didn’t need much: just to invite some friends, buy food, and distract him for enough time so that Eren could prepare everything. And, obviously, to pretend that November 3rd is just like every other day. 

When they enter the dorm, it’s dark and cold, and there is no sight of Eren or anybody else.

“That’s strange, he doesn’t have classes until afternoon,” Armin says. “And he doesn’t reply to my messages.”

She is on the verge of texting him herself - maybe he decided to wind down, - when Armin reaches his bedroom and suddenly screams, backing up. 

“Happy birthday!” The balloons fly out the room as the group chants. There are Sasha and Connie, wearing party hats and holding a cake with lit candles in the shape of the number eighteen, Jean with an unknown freckled boy right next to him - later, Mikasa finds out his name’s Marco and he’s in the same Biology class as Armin, - and Eren. He has bags under his eyes, and from what she saw in the sink, he’s on four cups of coffee. Still, he flashes her a bright toothy smile. 

Their presents aren’t expensive, they’re broke college students after all, but a baby blue hoodie, colourful socks, some books and a mini telescope almost make Armin cry. And the amount of food almost makes Sasha cry. 

“Do you want coffee, tea, beer, or a two-week-old Coke _someone_ forgot to throw away?” The tone in Armin’s voice is shamelessly teasing, and Mikasa can’t help but giggle when he grunts after a particularly strong kick from Eren. “Don’t touch the birthday boy, you jerk!”

“A beer would be just fine,” Mikasa responds, taking a place next to Jean at the table - a proper one this time, they finally got it instead of the countertop last week - and nods her head to the music playing from Eren’s phone. 

They laugh at Jean’s recap of the Halloween party: apparently, he blacked out in the bathroom in the first hour and woke up to someone making out right next to him, only to find his house looking like a dumpster; it took the whole night for Marco and him to clean the place.

“We had to wash the rug twice because Jean decided he wanted to puke on it!” Marco whines, and their laughter loudens. 

Out of the corner of her eye Mikasa sees Eren stand up with a drink in his hand. He clears his throat and exclaims, “To Armin!”

“To Armin!” all of them repeat, clinking beers.

Jean and Marco are the first to leave. They hold onto each other - Jean had too much beer and looks close to getting another rug dirty - and sigh, looking at everyone in the room with such sorrow as if they part forever and not just meet at the dining hall tomorrow. 

“See ya,” Sasha speaks weakly when the door closes. She’s lying flat on the floor with her hands caressing Connie’s sleeping figure curled up next to her. Armin’s there too, probably in food coma, quietly snoring into her hair. “By the way, forgot to ask. What are you doing on Thanksgiving? I heard we’ll have three days off.”

Mikasa shrugs in response, turning her head to Eren’s who’s busy clearing the table. Despite his previous jaded condition, he looks pumped up and glows with joy: he’s probably the only person who liked the get-together more than Armin. Seeing other people happy, Mikasa noticed, makes him happy, too.

“Yes, actually,” he responds, carrying a pile of dirty dishes to the sink. “Armin and I are going to Shiganshina.”

“Mikasa’s from Shiganshina too,” Sasha says, her voice is much weaker and slower, indicating her sleepy state. “Oh, I know! You should come with them and visit your... whoever.”

It’s a great suggestion, she thinks, but she still bites her lip in uncertainty. Shiganshina is three hundred miles from Trost, and travelling requires money which she’s now short of. 

“Yeah, you totally should,” Eren nods, looking up at her in anticipation. “I’ll be driving there and back.”

“Didn’t know you can,” He rolls his eyes at her remark. Mikasa jumps on the countertop next to Eren and looks over his shoulder. He’s leaning over the sink, scrubbing the plates with a sponge. “You missed a spot, Mr. Dishwasher.”

“Piss off!” Eren splashes soapy water at her, making her squeak and elbow his arm in return. “How did you get it?”

Mikasa stops laughing as she notices his gaze on her right cheekbone where her scar is. She raises her hand to meet the rough texture of it. 

“In a car accident when I was nine. It used to look much worse.”

“I think it looks good,” Eren says and flusters when she throws him a puzzled look. “I mean, it suits you. You look badass.”

She’s been complimented on her looks countless times. It’s just inevitable, growing up in predominanty white town where her slanted eyes were seen as exotic. Even Jean once stated he found her black hair beautiful, and she just nodded in gratitude, used to such attention. But now, when Eren isn’t even looking at her, she feels her cheeks redden at his unintentional - and rather awkward and funny - compliment. 

“But for real, will you go to Shiganshina with us?” 

“Of course,” she replies, lowering her head to hide her blush. “I’d love to see my brother.”

“You live with your brother?”

“And his wife.”

“What about your parents?”

It seems like everything today tries to remind her of that day.  _ Why?  _ she wonders,  _ It’s not like I’ll ever forget. _

“Car accident when I was nine,” she repeats It takes Eren a moment to realize what she means, and he inhales sharply.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she looks over his shoulder once more and titters. “You missed a spot again.”

“Mikasa, I think I told you to piss off!”

***

“Did you pack everything?”

“Yes, Sash, don’t worry.”

“Underwear?”

“Yes.”

“Food?”

“Of course.”

“Condoms?”

“Why the fuck would I need them?”

“You’ll be in the car with two attractive boys, God knows what can happen.”

“Why am I even talking to you?”

_ On the road to Shiganshina, the first hour _

“Tell her,” Eren breaks the silence, his eager eyes are on Armin’s hunched figure. He’s leaning his head on the car window, a small book in his hands, music playing in his earphones, and he doesn’t notice Eren’s sudden phrase. At least, he pretends to, because even from the back seat Mikasa sees a hint of pink on his cheeks.

“Tell her!” Eren repeats, bending over to flick Armin’s nose. A loud beep almost makes Mikasa’s soul leave her body: Eren’s just in time to hit the brake before their car can crash into the old van overtaking them. “Motherfucker!”

“For God’s sake, keep your eyes on the road!”

“If you had just told her, that wouldn’t have happened, you know.”

“Oh, so now I’m the guilty one? How convenient! But I wasn’t the one to...”

Mikasa doesn’t hear the rest of the quarrel, instead, she puts the volume up on her phone and decides to keep herself busy with something she hasn’t done for a long time - drawing. Of course, they paint in Art class, but it’s usually some small plans or abstract shapes, and she misses the feeling of a pencil following the lines of a person’s silhouette. 

She first got into drawing after her parent’s death: she was so terrified of forgetting their faces that she copied their photographs. Levi suggested taking her to art school numerous times, but Mikasa was determined to learn at least one thing on her own; it somehow turned into her passion. 

The sun is at its highest point, and it highlights Eren’s focused and still a bit irritated face nicely, so Mikasa chooses him to be the hero of her doodle novel. It’s a strange angle, the only things she can properly see on his face are his defined bone structure and pointy ears. His hair is in the usual messy semblance of a man-bun with some shorter streaks sticking out here and there. Armin once told her a secret that in his senior year of high school Eren had had a major image change, and at some point he had grown his hair and even a stubble; Mikasa cackled when she saw the photos: he looked like a hobo. 

He’s not wearing a hoodie like he normally does, and she noticed a tattoo on the back of his neck, a second one she sees - just how many does he have? It’s discreet, some characters made with red ink, and as what she still remembers from the Japanese class she took in high school, it’s «freedom» written in katakana.

“-kasa.”

More shadows on his hair and hands fixed on the wheel, the T-shirt wrinkles - she sees the exact copy of Eren Yeager, maybe with one slight difference: the can’t see his dark teal orbs always glaring at her with the smirk behind them.

“Mikasa!”

She flinched when Eren turns in his seat and nudges her stretched out legs.

“What?”

He has a satisfied grin on his face. “Armin is  in love.”

Poor Armin chooses the wrong time to take a sip from the Diet Coke bottle and he chokes, coughing loudly.

“I’m  _what_?”

“He’s  _what_?”

They wonder in unison, making Eren scoff. 

“He met a girl in the library the other day, helped her find the needed book, and she gave him her number,” he states boastfully as if he’s the one he’s taking about. Mikasa makes her stunned gaze wander from him to Armin whose face now resembles lobster’s red shade. 

“Nice one!” she giggles, ruffling his hair. “And they say chivalry is dead. Who’s the lucky girl?”

“He refused to tell me.”

“I took a programming course, I can hack his phone so we find out.”

“Really?”

“No.”

_ On the road to Shiganshina, the second hour _

“If there was a contest on who’s the whitest person ever, you’d win,” Eren informs Armin.

They’ve been stuck in traffic jam for over twenty minutes, and he seems bored.

“What the hell?” Armin chokes on his drink for the second time this day and looks at his friend with worry. “Where did that come from?”

“You know, the car in front of us is white, so I thought about the origin and meaning of it, and it somehow led me to you.”

“Are you high?”

“No, but you’re white as hell, don’t deny it.”

“You’re white too, Eren!”

“Technically, but my mom’s ancestors were native, and my name is Turkish, so my dad’s part Turkish...to some extent.”

“My grandfather moved here from England, and my dad is Irish.”

“Aw, a little coloniser.”

“I’m half-Japanese and half-French.”

“Aw, a  _double_ coloniser.”

“For the love of God, Eren, just shut up and drive!”

“...That’s a cool song, by the way.”

_ On the road to Shiganshina, the fourth hour _

Mikasa opens her eyes when the pain in her neck stops being tolerable. She realizes she slept for a whole hours in a uncomfortable position, her head bent to the left this whole time so she can’t even turn it now. She hears the boys jamming to an old Lady Gaga song, Eren’s even singing along and it sounds more than decent.

She slowly sits up, feeling the seatbelt sticking to her abdomen painfully and stretches, her elbow hits the window and makes her hiss. She officially hates road trips.

“Want some?” she gratefully takes a ham sandwich Armin hands her. “We’re almost there, just an hour or so left.”

Eren hits a particularly high note in  _Paparazzi_ and she giggles. Despite his energetic façade, she sees how worn out he is, his shoulder are stiff and he keeps sighing.

“What are you planning to do?” Mikasa asks.

“I’ll spend today with my family and tomorrow we’ll go to Armin’s for the annual dinner,” Eren says, the soft grin on his lips makes her smile, too.

“You can come too, Mikasa. And your brother and sister-in-law.”

Knowing Levi, he’ll probably be working tomorrow, so Hange’ll invite over Moblit and Onyankopon, her colleagues and good friends, and they’ll have a small fest. 

“Thanks, I’ll ask them.”

The rest of the trip goes fast, with all of them howling the iconic 2000s hits - Mikasa especially likes  _Sexy Back_ in Armin’s performance. 

“There it is,” she points at her house for Eren to pull over. 

“That’s crazy, we lived in the same neighbourhood this whole time and didn’t know each other. Where did you go to school?”

“St. Maria private school.”

“Fancy,” Eren remarkes in the terrible posh accent.

Mikasa promises to text them later and gets out of the car, relived to stand on her two instead of cramming on the back seat. She feels anxious all of sudden, facing the wooden front door of the house she knows every corner of. She didn’t tell Levi and Hange a thing, so they’re completely oblivious to her visiting. She takes a moment to take a deep breath and rings the bell, trying to resist the bright smile on her face.

“If it’s Daz then go to hell.” The grumpy voice of her brother answers. Daz is the neighbour from across the street, a drunkard who is one of several people who is capable of getting under Levi’s skin: he has a habit of coming to their house and begging for some company and sometimes money. Hange was to compassionate to refuse him the first few times and they had to listen to his sob stories over and over until they agreed to pretend they didn’t hear him knocking and calling their names.

”I’m not!”

In a split second the door in front of her opens with such force it’s a miracle it doesn’t fly off its hinges. It’s easy to guess what Levi was up to before: he’s wearing a pair of gloves and a face mask, the irreplaceable attributes of every cleaning session. He looks startled, the usually bored eyes wide and mouth slightly hanging open.

“What are you doing here?” they ask at the same time.

Levi scoffs, letting her into the living room. “What am I doing in my own house?”

“You’re always at work so I’m surprised.” Mikasa only now realizes how much she missed this place. It’s been three months, and everything feels almost nostalgic: the huge windows lighting every corner of the room, fluffy rugs, countless paintings and photographs gracing each wall of the house, even the tall cupboard filled with different kinds of tea from all over the world and china.

“I had to take a day off in case Hange needs me.” 

“Why?” she wonders, taking a place on the couch next to the sleeping cats, Sawney and Bean. Hange found them on a spring rainy day a couple of years ago and didn’t have the heart to leave the little dirty creatures to their fate. It didn’t take a long time to convince Levi to keep them - maybe it was the power of four pairs of pleading eyes looking into his soul.

Mikasa hears the weak steps: coming downstairs is Hange, she looks unusual and sick, her skin is pale despite her tanned complexion, hair’s like a crow’s nest, and there is no typical enthusiasm in her posture. However, the sight of Mikasa brings a smile to her face.

”Honey, what are you doing here?” Hange runs to hug her, and Mikasa doesn’t miss the hint of concern on Levi’s face. 

“We have a couple of days off because of Thanksgiving, so I decided to visit you.” 

“How nice of you! Levi,” she shouts, narrowing her eyes at his relaxed figure standing by the staircase. “Have the decency to make your sister tea, she’s come a long way here!”

He rolls his eyes but obeys, disappearing into the archway. Hange makes her way to the round table and flops on the chair, plopping her legs on another one with a loud sigh. Her body just screams tension, and it makes Mikasa worry: she’s never seen her like that, even when she was on the verge of fainting because of the crazy work hours she always remained positive, with a smile that went from ear to ear.

”So, tell me how you’ve been,” Hange demands. “Got any friends?”

She tells her everything: about Sasha and her unforgettable attics, about Physics class she used to struggle with but with the help of Armin then managed to improve her performance, about Armin himself, how good-natured he is, about Eren, his funny roommate who made a horrible impression on their first encounter, about the volleyball team and her friendly rivalry with Annie Leonhart, and about how delighted she is to have decided to go to Trost.

“By the way,” Hange leans closer after taking a short glance at the archway. “Levi won’t admit it, but he was over the moon when Erwin called him. They talked for about two hours, and our Shorty even laughed. They agreed to meet when Erwin comes here over the Christmas break to visit his mom.”

The silver tray with three cups of black tea and a bowl of cookies lands in front of them, making the girls jump. Judging by the unamused look he’s giving them, Levi heard them gossiping. He pulles the chair out from underneath Hange’s legs and sits down, moving the tray closer to her.

”Eat.”

She moans. “You know I can’t.”

”I’ll force this fucking cookie up your throat if you don’t eat,” he says, folding his hands across his chest. 

“I’ll get sick again if I eat!”

Mikasa’s left to witness their confusing interaction with the cup of cooling tea she’s sipping on. 

“What are you talking about?” They turn their heads in her direction. “Hange, are you sick?”

They lock eyes again for a long minute, making strange faces at each other in a silent conversation. 

Finally, Hange sighs. “We found out a couple of weeks ago and didn’t want to tell you until Christmas.”

Mikasa frowns. Is Hange _that_ sick?

”I’m pregnant.”

Levi disappears for a moment and comes back with a small black and white photograph, and she gasps. There it is, new nephew or niece, now not bigger than a raspberry in size. Ever since Levi met Hange - it was over eight years ago, - Mikasa’s thought of herself as a burden to them. Even though Hange spent all her time with her and was her mother and elder sister she’d never had at the same time, she felt ashamed. Maybe they wanted their own kids, but the sudden obligation to take care of a small girl interfered with their plans.

“You celebrated my moving, I see,” she comments. Hange bursts out laughing, leaning back in the chair, and even Levi cracks a smile. “When’s the due date?”

”In early August.”

”Let’s hope he doesn’t take after his father’s height. ”

Despite his irritated expression, Mikasa can see how delighted Levi is. After everything he’s been through, he deserves some happiness in his life.

***

Thanksgiving at Arlert household differs greatly from the Ackermans’. It’s loud, with a bunch of people wandering between the kitchen and the dining room, and so cozy.

Mikasa feels everyone’s eyes at her as she sits at the the couch to the right of Armin’s mom, a short plump woman with a mop of dirty blond hair and the same lovely cerulean eyes. 

“Mikasa, what is your major?” Armin’s father, a stocky man with a moustache, asks, handing her a cup of tea. 

“Architecture,” she replies, and they hum in approval. 

The feast hasn’t started yet, they’re still waiting for the Yeagers to come, so she opts to help Mrs. Arlert and Armin to set the table. And right when they place the zest of the celebration, the roast turkey, right in the centre, the doorbell rings.

”Carla, nice to see you!” Mrs. Arlert greets a dark-haired woman. Mikasa instantly realizes it’s Eren’s mom: he’s the spitting image of her, with the same thick eyebrows, large eyes, and a kind smile. 

She doesn’t expect the Yeager family to have so many people. Eren never told her about his siblings, and she raises her eyebrows at the tall bearded man and a small girl coming in with him.

“Hey!” He smiles widely and embraces her. “You came alone?”

“Yeah. Levi’s at work, and Hange doesn’t feel good, but they say hello.”

He introduces her to his siblings - Zeke who is actually his half-brother from his father’s first marriage, and Emma, a lively nine-year-old girl who’s like a mini Eren. Their father isn’t there: with undisguised disgruntle Eren tells her that he’s _too busy to come._

”And this is Mikasa Ackerman,” she smiles awkwardly, feeling everyone’s eyes - though in larger numbers - on her again. 

“Ackerman?” Zeke suddenly coughs, looking at her with wide eyes. “Happen to have a cop relative?”

When did Levi become so popular that so many people know him? 

She nods. “Yes, my brother.” She doesn’t miss Zeke’s face go pale for a second, but she doesn’t delve. 

“Don’t just stand there, sit down, everybody!” grandpa Arlert orders, seated on an honourable place at the head of the table. Nobody seems to argue with him, and soon the delicious smell and loud laughter fill the room.

“Mikasa, dear, do you know you’re Eren’s second friend in his entire life?” Carla giggles, hearing her son groan. “He never wanted to meet anyone because _Mom, I have Armin, why would I need anybody else?_ , so when I heard about you, I was surprised there was another person to tolerate him.” 

“Oh my God, mom, was it so necessary to say?”

So, so cozy.

“Another fun ride,” Armin says when Mikasa enters the car and immediately buckles up.

”The break passed so quickly,” Eren sighs, starting a car, and Mikasa takes a last glance at her house. Hange is waving at her through the window, and she feels a sad smile touch her lips: it almost hurts how much she doesn’t want to leave. “But, I downloaded the whole High School Musical playlist. I call Gabriella’s parts!” 

“I call Troy’s!”

”What the hell? I don’t want to be Sharpay!”

Maybe she does hate road trips, but she definitely adores the company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you seen the chapter 138 leaks? It’s not even out yet, but I’m already heartbroken :,)
> 
> Thanks you so much for reading and see you next week!  
> Again, any feedback in appreciated!


	4. this december, i’ll remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my native language, so I apologise for any possible mistakes. If you notice them, please point them out!
> 
> Chapter’s title states the month when the actions take place and are inspired by songs. This one is This December by Ricky Montgomery.
> 
> !!!WARNING!!! THE END NOTES CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 138.

Never in her life Mikasa could imagine waking up to Mariah Carey hitting a E5 note. She blinks slowly and looks around the sunny room in confusion, seeing only the unmade bed of her roommate and a mess on her own desk. She gets up, her thighs sore from the intense practice yesterday - their first match is in February, and Erwin doesn’t spare them, working the girls to the bone - and as she walks to the door, Mariah’s soprano gets louder. And Sasha’s howling as well.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” She looks energetic for a someone who woke up at eight in the morning, dancing in the middle of the room with a bag of Doritos in her hands and a red tinsel around her neck. The cause of Mikasa’s awakening is rolling happily in the snow, smiling widely at her from the TV screen.  _“All I want for Christmas is you-u!_ ”

“What the hell are you doing?” Mikasa wonders, rubbing her still sleepy eyes. 

“Oh, don’t be so Grinchy, it’s December 1st, Christmas is coming!” Sasha exclaims and swirls. And of course, being Sasha Blouse, she slips on linoleum and lands on her butt with a loud thud. As she stretches out on the floor and giggles, Mikasa seriously doubts her mental stability.

She ignores Sasha’s terrible punchline and comes closer to the slightly open window, the blow of chilly wind makes her skin crawl. The sky is gray and sad, the dense clouds mask the sun, ready to erupt in a heavy rain at any time. It still looks like fall, with dry leaves paving the stony roads, creating a symphony of crunches caused by fussy student stepping on them, no signs of snowing any time soon.

“How are you up so early?” she asks Sasha who’s now in the middle of swaying to Frank Sinatra, repeating  _ let it snow  _ like a mantra. She’s usually a night owl and a heavy sleeper - once, when they were studying in her room, Eren accidentally turned on a screamo song and she didn’t even stir, - so seeing Sasha out of bed before noon is like catching a bigfoot - almost impossible. 

“I didn’t go to bed,” she responds joyfully, and only now Mikasa notices how red and puffy her eyes are. 

With exams coming, it’s no surprise. More often than not Mikasa finds helself napping on a desk in between the classes, at the dining hall, even on Armin’s shoulder when they’re busy studying together, and last time when he, Eren and her went to see a movie, she passed out at the opening credits.  Constant cramming in combination with a huge load of homework every professor suddenly decided to give them can drain even the strongest person of all their energy. 

“Got any plans?” 

Mikasa shrugs, thinking for a moment. It’s Sunday, and if not for Sasha’s too early Christmas celebration she would be sleeping like a log the whole day. “No, I think I’ll just work on my Art project.”

“I have a better idea,” she jumps off the floor with her face lit up in the way Mikasa’s seen hundreds of times - she’s up to something, and it doesn’t always end well. “We need to relax.”

“The fuck you want, Potato Girl?”

“Ymir! Be nice!” 

“Ouch, Hisu, why would... OUCH! Hitch, what the fuck?!”

They sit at the «57th», a cafe near the college campus Sasha discovered a couple of weeks ago and totally adored. It’s rather small, minimalistic looking, with high wooden tables against the windows, hanging plants and succulents cluttering every corner and the cashier’s desk, and a calico cat walking around lazily like she is the true owner of this place.

“What am I even doing here?” Annie asks quietly. She’s sitting blankly at the end of the table, glaring at Hitch and Ymir bickering over nothing particularly while Historia is trying to calm them down. 

Mikasa asks herself the same. When Sasha told her she was in need of ‘girls’, she had no idea it included Annie Leonhart. They weren’t friends, rather, acquaintances who happened to be in the same sports team, or, in Sasha’s case, the same English class, they’d never even had a proper talk before: Annie had always stayed away with a frigid expression on her face. 

“Stop!” Sasha slaps both of the girls’ hands as they turn away from each other, pouting. “I’m in desperate need of girls company, but you’re screwing it up!”

“Sick of men already? Is Baldy’s dick small or something?” Ymir mocks.

It costs her a loud smack on the shoulder from her girlfriend. “Ymir, for once in your life, shut the hell up!” Historia hisses, red in the face from both embarrassment and fury. 

Mikasa never knew the true meaning of the word  oxymoron until she met Historia and Ymir, the two girls from the same floor who make such an unusual couple that you’re only left to wonder how they even got together in the first place. Snarky, straightforward and judgmental, Ymir is the exact opposite of Historia whose sweet appearance in combination with the kindest personality make her look almost angelic. After all, it seems like opposites _do_ attract.

“It’s actually rather big, thank you very much,” Mikasa groans at Sasha’s statement, reminded of the awful October encounter. “But I didn’t invite you here to discuss Connie. C’mon, it’s a  _ girls _ talk, we should talk about  _ girls_! Like, Annie,” All eyes turn to the blonde girl sipping on her latte silently. “How have you been lately?”

She just blinks, bewildered from sudden attention being drawn to her. “Fine.”

“Bullshit, she’s great!” To her left, Hitch scoffs and nudges her shoulder with a mischievous smirk on her face. “Our Snow Queen found a boyfriend.”

“Damn,” Ymir whistles, her brows raised in surprise. “I really hoped you were gay.”

“Even if I was, you still wouldn’t be my type.”

Ymir just laughs, wrapping an arm around Historia’s waist as if to say _you wouldn’t be mine, too._

“Who is he, Annie?” The hopeless romantic, Historia leans closer as her eyes shine in excitement.

Annie responds with a cold glare and returns her attention to the cup of latte in front of her, completely ignoring the girl’s question. 

“Even I don’t know,” Hitch rolls her eyes. “All I know is that met in the library and he helped her find a book.”

As they erupt in a loud  _aw_ , Mikasa’s smile slowly disappears from her face and she frowns, puzzled. The story sounds unexpectedly familiar. She takes a closer look at Annie, at her tense posture, the annoyed curve of her lips and the slight pink colour that flushes her cheeks at the others’ whooping. Is she that mysterious girl Eren teased Armin about on their way to Shiganshina? Another oxymoron, she thinks, a total sweetheart and a stone-cold loner.

“What about you, Mikasa?” Her eyes widen when all of sudden Sasha turns in her direction. “Got someone in mind?”

“Not really.”

“What about these guys you’re always with?” Historia asks.

“Eren and Armin?” She pays attention to how Annie takes a short glance at her at the sound of the latter’s name. “No, they’re just friends.”

“Don’t tell me you’re straight  too!” Ymir groans, her voice full of frustration.

”Okay, I won’t.”

She looks like she could cry.

When they leave «57th» - Mikasa swears some of the workers breathe a sign of relief - the sky is tinted peach, gracing the outgoing daylight with vividness in a sort of a farewell. The wind picked up its strength, raising the leaves high in the air as they spin in a peculiar dance. Mikasa pulls the collar of her jumper higher in an attempt to protect herself from a cold gust, regretting not wearing a scarf - the bright sun tricked her and she left it at home. 

“Mikasa, hey!” She hears someone calling her name as they reach the campus gateway. 

Jean is waving at her from the parking lot. He looks good as always, and, unlike her, warm in his puffy coat, and as he comes closer, Mikasa notices his cheeks and the tips of his ears flush, a look on his face radiates nothing but amiability.

“Damn, he’s hot!”

“Hitch, aren’t you taken?” Sasha gasps.

“Yes,  _ and_?”

“What’s up? Haven’t seen you in a while,” Jean looks down at her with a shy smile. 

“Blame the finals,” she sighs. “I hardly even sleep, look at these eyebags.”

“You look just fine.” The boy blushes at his own words, looking away as she mutters a quiet  _thanks_. His hand reaches up to his nape and he scratches it nervously. He’s suddenly fidgeting, and his face’s becoming more red with every second. “W-well, maybe when the exams are over, we, erm... can hang out?”

“Of course! Will Marco come too?”

Jean stays still for a second, looking at her, baffled. He clears his throat before talking.

“No, that’s not what I-“

“Hey, guys.”

Jean visibly stiffens at the sounds of a familiar voice that makes Mikasa’s smile widen. Eren’s leaning on the brick wall, with one hand in the pocket of his olive jacket and another one holding a cigarette. He seems different: with no usual smug smirk, he looks upset, his brows furrowed and the corners of his lips pulled down. He takes the last drag and tosses the cigarette into the dumpster, coming closer to the pair.

“What’s up, Horseface? Finished with the History essay already?” 

_Horseface_ _?_ Mikasa is taken aback by the nickname,  _Where did that come from?_

“Yeah, just came here to hand it in.” He scowls, irritated at the brunette for interrupting their talk. “Look, I’m a bit busy now, can you-“

Eren has the audacity to smirk. “We’ll be late for the class, c’mon.” 

He puts his arm around Jean’s shoulder and moves him forward, in the opposite direction the black haired girl, making him growl in annoyance. He slaps the hand off him and storms away, muttering something under his breath. 

Eren openly grins. He turns to the girl standing beside him, taking her shivering form into account before removing a red scarf from his neck. 

“Are you cold?” he asks softly. Without waiting for a response, he takes a step forward and wraps the bright fabric around her, like a cocoon, her gray eyes remain the only visible part of her face. “You can have this. It’s warm, right?”

He flashes her a smile, then turns away. “Jean, wait for me!”

The four girls - Annie already left - look at her with their mouth open when Mikasa rejoins their company.

“ _No, they’re just friends_ ,”  Ymir mocks in a high-pitched voice.

“ _No, I don’t have anyone in mind_ ,”  Sasha echoes, poorly mimicking Mikasa’s tone. 

“How romantic,” Historia sighs dreamily, cupping her face. “A love triangle.”

Mikasa rolls her eyes, shrugging the girls off.

Wait.  _Love_?

***  
  


Sasha cries when the time to leave for the winter break comes. She isn’t in a hurry, her village is just an hour drive from the campus, so she packs cheerlessly as Mikasa puts a long black coat on, ready to leave. 

“I’ll miss you,” she whines, grabbing her roommate’s hand, her face is red and stained with mascara from the tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“It’s just three weeks,” Mikasa smiles, feeling her heart ache at the sight of her roommate. “I’ll FaceTime you so you tell me how meeting your parents went.”

Sasha giggles. For whole week of the break the Blouse family will become bigger by one person: they decided not to wait too long and get familiar with their daughter’s boyfriend. 

“I can tell you now. Connie’ll shit his pants.”

They hug for what seems like an eternity, and when the door closes behind her, Mikasa feels a wave of sadness coming over her.

She doesn’t say it out loud, but she’ll miss her, too.

Eren’s still quiet and tense, his babbly personallity vanished. Mikasa hasn’t seen him for the past two weeks: not in the dining hall, not in between the classes, not even when she comes to his and Armin’s dorm. It’s the exams, she told herself, getting more doubtful with each day. 

So now it’s her and Armin who jam to the playlist called ‘Disney Classical’ the whole ride. 

He doesn’t even say goodbye, just nods and lits up a cigarette, looking away. 

And it hurts. A lot. 

“ _sorry, idk_ _what’s wrong with him.”_ Armin texts her later, spotting her distress. 

It’s the exams, she tells herself. The only thing is, they’re already over.

She can’t take her eyes off Hange. She finally starts looking pregnant: the bump can be seen under the formfitting shirt, not a big one, and her face visibly rounded. The old guest room, which nobody ever used because they didn’t have guests in the first place, now is painted light green, with a wooden crib right next to a huge window, built-in shelves filled with books and stuffed toys, garlands and animal pictures on the walls - it’s still half-empty, but there is plenty of time to finish it before the baby is born. 

“Have you thought of the names yet?” Mikasa asks, pouring two cups of black tea as Hange’s making tuna fish sandwiches on the kitchen counter.

“We’re waiting until we know the gender.”

Her gut feeling tells her it’s a boy, and it has never failed her before.

“Is something wrong?” Hange addresses the elephant in the room, crossing the arms on her chest and looking at her unusually silent sister-in-law.

That’s one of the things she both hates and adores about Hange - her perceptiveness: she’s like a lie detector, able to notice even the slightest changes in her behaviour. Trying to hide anything from her is simply pointless, so takes a deep breath before spilling her guts. It’s funny, telling a woman with awful morning sicknesses and a stressful job how hard it is to be ignored by a boy, but Hange listens carefully, nodding her head in understanding. 

“This Eren guys seems important to you,” she comments, and if Mikasa wasn’t so frustrated, she would hear a hint of taut in her voice. “Well, his dad works a lot, right? Maybe he’s just upset about it. Though it doesn’t give him the right to give you a cold shoulder.”

That’s a valid reason, and Mikasa leans back in the chair, feeling somewhat relieved.

“No boy is worth your worries, honey. Fuck him.”

She gasps. “Hange, don’t say that!”

The woman cackles, winking at her. “By the way, a new scarf?”

Late in the evening, when they’re watching an absolutely absurd comedy, discussing it like true film critics, Mikasa’s phone makes a beeping noise.

_ Eren _ Yeager, it says.

_“lol look at these faces_ ”

He sends her a selfie: Armin’s face is scrunched like he’s about to sneeze as Eren’s shoving half a pack of M&M’s into his mouth. 

“ _wanna hang out tomorrow?_ ”

She smiles. Eren’s back.

And yes, Connie almost _did_ shit his pants at the sight of Sasha’s father.

“Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering. I sense much fear in you.”

“I’ll never turn to the dark side!” Eren huffs, rolling the dice. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes!” Armin emits an evil laughter as Eren lands on Broadwalk, his most expensive property. “Now, young Skywaker, you will die.”

With a victorious smirk he accepts all money and properties from Eren, now a bankrupt.

Mikasa’s left to witness their interaction with a confused expression on her face. “What?” 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen Star Wars.” 

“No?”

“WHAT!”

Despite his message, they never got to hang out with hectic lifestyle everyone led before Christmas. Buy decorations, buy presents, buy food, remember you have more relatives and buy presents again, cook everything, make time for watching Home Alone and Elf, eat like it’s your last day on Earth, visit your beloved grandmother and eat again - Eren texted her on the 30th, giving her his word that they’d certainly meet the following day.

His parents are visiting Mr. Yeager’s sister, leaving the house to the kids. The place is huge, lit by the natural light filtering in through the picture windows, designed in a exquisite palette of natural materials and neutral colours, with high ceilings, marble accents on the kitchen walls and a large yard with blossoming flowers which reminds Mikasa of her mom’s one. 

Eren brought Chinese takeout and board games, so the three of them - once in a while Emma comes downstairs to bother them - occupy the living room, laughing at Eren’s horrible Monopoly skills and discussing the holidays.  He looks happy, telling how his dad took a day off to take the kids - even though the two of them are twenty eight and eighteen years old - Christmas shopping. 

“Do you live under the rock?” Armin looks scandalized at her confession. “Even my cousin saw Star Wars. He’s five, and he cried when he saw Jar Jar Binks!”

“You’re the biggest pop culture virgin I’ve even met,” Eren agrees. “Is Star Wars on Netflix? We’re  _ so  _ watching it right now.”

She almost falls asleep at  _The Phantom Menace_ , and, thankfully, it’s the last film they manage to watch before Eren suddenly jumps from his place on the white couch.

“It’s eleven, the fireworks are soon,” he gets their lazy forms off the couch in a rush. “Hurry up, we’re gonna be late!”

“Eren, we’ve seen them eighteen times already, do we have to go?” Armin complains when he pushes him through the front door. 

Eren’s fierce glare says it all.

He grabs the keys and hops in the driver’s seat of his SUV, irritated at his friends moving with the speed of a snail. He drums along the Christmas songs with his long fingers, a beaming smile never leaves his face. The streets are crowded with celebrating people, the loud music and cheering are heard from the central park, but they don’t go there. Eren’s driving up north, to the wall of thick forest, illuminated only by a moonlight. Mikasa knows this surroundings: she spent nine years exploring every overgrown trail while helping her mother pick berries. 

“What are we doing here?” she asks, but her question remains unanswered as Eren keeps looking forward. 

He stops the car a couple of feet away from the cliff, and the sight takes her breath away. The town seems so small from above, the lights of the houses and signboards form multiple constellations. Eren nods towards the edge and exits, and as she unbuckles, Mikasa turns to Armin on the backseat.

“Let’s-“ she stops short, looking at his peacefully sleeping form. “Sweet dreams, Armin, I’ll record everything for you.”

It’s quiet, the only audible sounds are the crickets’ chirping and a crack of brunches under her combat boots. She follows Eren’s tall figure to the very edge, and even if she’s not afraid of the heights, the sight below her still makes her knees weak.

“It’s beautiful,” Mikasa breaks the silence, shivering a little from a strong gust of wind. “How did you find this place?”

“Dad took Zeke and I here every New Year. It’s the best view of the fireworks.” 

“Armin’s asleep,” she says, and Eren chuckles.

“Let him be.” He pulls the phone out of his pocket to look at the time. “Perfect timing.”

He comes closer so she can see the clock changes.  _One minute._

“Any resolutions?” Eren asks, tilting his head at her.

She thinks. About Levi and Hange, about the baby, about college, Sasha, Armin, Eren, about the upcoming volleyball match, the end of her freshman year, the long-awaited summer break. “Just be happy, I guess. You?”  _Thirty seconds._

“Nothing,” he replies determinedly. “I already have everything I could wish for.”  _Twenty seconds._

Mikasa hums in understating, returning her gaze to the noisy town beneath her feet. It was a good year, she says to helself. She couldn’t desire for anything more, with her family and friends surrounding her.  _Ten seconds._

“It’s time, Mikasa.”

The dark sky erupts into a mix of colours as the clock reaches zero. The firework are vivid and spectacular, and Mikasa almost forgets to turn on the camera - she promised Armin, after all. She looks up at Eren only to see that he’s already looking at her with an unreadable expression, his brows and lips furrowed.

“I think we should start this year on a good note,” he whispers.

Mikasa blinks in surprise. Eren’s doing it again: one second he’s vibrant, with the spark in his eyes, the next one he’s scowling and...nervous? She doesn’t know what it going on inside of his mind.

Until he kisses her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!WARNING!!! THE NOTES CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 138.
> 
> Unpopular opinion: I’m actually satisfied with how the things turned out. I always said that if Eren was to die, it would be Mikasa who killed him, AND I WAS RIGHT. Idk if it’s the end of their story (though I believe it is, Eren’s already died three times, like c’mon), but I’m happy that they’re canon. Mentally I’m in the cabin in Switzerland with them.
> 
> The chapter 112 talk is animated in this week’s episode, and THAT’S when I’m going to cry like a bitch. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading! See you next week!
> 
> Again, any feedback is highly appreciated :)


End file.
